


knowing nothing of the fall

by rarmaster



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Oneshot, kratos has a bad day but of course he does, tw: suicidal thoughts (brief; one line)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 15:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17409443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarmaster/pseuds/rarmaster
Summary: At the Tower of Salvation, Kratos is faced with a choice.





	knowing nothing of the fall

**Author's Note:**

> fic title taken from [this song](https://genius.com/Deas-vail-the-leaper-lyrics), listen (after you read tho imo) for bonus feels

He’s prepared for this. He is. He knows he is. It’s simple, really. Play a part he’s played for the majority of 4000 years. Be the Seraphim, not the mercenary, and certainly not the father—

(Well, a little bit of those previous two, because he doesn’t _want_ to hurt them, at least not any more than he has to. He hopes to make it quick, when they resist—because of course they will resist—as painless as possible.

Perhaps the role he’s looking for is the knight, then, or the war hero. Merciful, if efficient. There’s no need for unnecessary violence.)

Kratos takes a deep breath to steady himself.

The talk is easy, the betrayal done with a simple unfurling of hidden wings. Perhaps he’s crueler than necessary, boasts more than he should, but it’s better if Lloyd hates him, isn’t it? ( _His right to be Kratos, the father, was something he forfeited long ago. It was nice to pretend, for a little while, but no more. No more.)_ Besides, he’s certain that reviving Martel really is the only way to save both worlds, at this point. He could release Origin to Yuan, but Origin would never listen to Yuan, and without some other idealistic hero around to fix what Mithos broke—if Origin would even _let_ himself be used again—what other option is there than to let Mithos do the fixing, as he promised?

( _Kratos cannot bear to see Martel die, either. He’s lost enough loved ones._ )

Lloyd runs at him.

The fight begins.

Sword up to block Lloyd’s swing. A kick to Lloyd’s stomach to send push him away. Jump backwards, wings carrying him out of the immediate area of the fight, far enough away he can charge and cast Judgement. Burning, holy light rains down. Lloyd dodges. Sheena does not. Something like sadness twinges in Kratos’ heart, but he cannot, _cannot_ allow himself to feel it.

He singles out Raine next only because she is the healer.

Genis’ rage as his sister falls to a quick (not fatal, but compromising) strike of the sword tastes like bitter nostalgia. The frankly terrifying Eruption which Genis casts in retaliation was inevitable. Kratos gets caught in the blast zone even as he tries to fly away, and the fire that burns at his skin and his clothes is really the least he deserves.

He tries to be gentle, as he cuts Genis down, too.

( _Genis is just a child._ )

Lloyd shouts something, but Kratos selfishly chooses not to hear it. There is nothing but the roaring of his own blood in his ears. If he cannot hear the way Lloyd’s voice breaks with despair, with anger, then he cannot be led astray.

He fights on auto-pilot, forgoes magic because a distant part of him wants to give Lloyd a (somewhat) fair fight. It’s not really fair when he has thousands of years more experience with the sword than Lloyd does. Step back from Lloyd’s weight on his blade. Smack the hilt of his sword into Lloyd’s cheek when Lloyd overbalances himself. Shoulder into Lloyd’s chest to send him further back.

The thought of cutting Lloyd open makes his blood curdle, but.

Quicker is better. It does not have to be fatal.

He closes the distance. Raises his sword above his head. Brings it down on his son—

—it bounces off a surge of mana.

Kratos staggers back from the recoil. His surprise sends him a step further backwards, as the mana coalesces into a gentle light around Lloyd, like arms wrapped protectively around him, an outline Kratos could never, ever forget.

“Anna…?”

The weight of what he’s doing brings him to his knees.

Lloyd’s shock makes him let his guard down, and Kratos laughs, broken, because that’s the last thing he needed in this moment, this moment is why he never told Lloyd ( _being betrayed by your father has to hurt so much more_ ), but Anna’s ghost persists, holding their son, a protective spell put up between him and—

( _Kratos has felt this much like a monster precisely one other time in his life_.)

“What,” Lloyd says. He looks about ready to drop his swords. “Mom? Wait—”

He stops straining to look at his mother’s ghost to look at his father again, understanding lighting in his eyes, understanding that turns to horror. Kratos hangs his head in shame. He cannot bear to look at his son, not after this, not while he can still feel Anna’s presence gathered around Lloyd.

He cannot face her, most of all.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It seems… I cannot stop making mistakes.”

 _Fix them,_ Anna seems to whisper back to him. He can almost feel her fury.

“I’m not sure how,” he admits, and he laughs, broken.

What a pitiful, horrid coward he is, has always been. Crawling back to Mithos because it was easy. Letting despair take him. Letting his light die out. Grief is a terrible, all-consuming monster, one that will more than happily chew anyone up and spit them out as a twisted thing, but that does not excuse anything.

Was this the most logical path? The easiest path? Either way, it was not the path Anna would have wanted him to choose, and yet standing right in the middle of it, feet anchored to the ground, hands chained to serve an insane child-god, here he is.

(He should have just let Yuan kill him.)

“K- Kratos?” Lloyd asks. His voice cracks on it.

 _Make a choice,_ Anna insists, her voice wrapping around Kratos like Triet’s hot wind, wrapping around him and digging into his skin like knives. _For once in your life, make a choice, instead of letting someone else make it for you._

Kratos tries to breathe through paralyzed lungs.

It’s too late, isn’t it?

Maybe…

Maybe it doesn’t have to be.

“There’s…” he begins. Stops. Wets his lips and tries again. “There might be a way to save Colette, still.”

Speaking the words is like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing that he cannot use his wings to save himself from the fall if he chooses to jump, having to hope that there is water to catch him, that he will not dash his body on jagged rocks first. Speaking the words is difficult, because Kratos has never once considered himself brave.

“You- You want to _help_ us?” Lloyd squeaks out. “You- after- after _all this_!?”

“One who knows how to undo their mistakes but chooses not to is a fool,” Kratos says, slowly, so he does not choke on words too big for his throat. “A fool, or a coward. I have always been a coward.”

Lloyd hesitates, but… Anna must say something to convince him that Kratos cannot hear, or maybe his son’s heart is bigger than Kratos could have ever hoped, because Lloyd lowers his swords.

“There’s… really a way to?” Lloyd asks, cautious, but daring to hope. “What about- the worlds? Is there a way for them to both prosper?”

“Not an easy way,” Kratos admits, because nothing about what they are about to do is easy on its own, never mind the opposition. “I’m… not even sure if it will work.” Origin might like Lloyd. He might not. Even if he does, what Mithos broke might truly be impossible to fix. “But… I promised your mother, long ago, that I would fix my mistakes. The least I can do is try. I have been a fool not to.”

Kratos pushes himself to his feet. Anna’s ghost has faded, but she’s done exactly what she came here to do, hasn’t she?

( _He’s always needed a little push. Sometimes, a large push._ )

Lloyd stares at Kratos, Kratos with his wings still out, then looks to his fallen friends, to Colette. He grits his teeth.

“There is not much time,” Kratos warns, though he would love to wait for his son to come to a decision. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to trust me—”

Too late.

A disturbance in the mana, a presence Kratos could never hope to miss. Yggdrasill descends, wings on full display, expression cold, as he looks between his brother and his brother’s son, knowing full well what is going on here.

“I don’t know why I expected anything different from you,” Mithos—because it _is_ Mithos, no matter what he looks like—says, words dripping with contempt. He shakes his head, and he scoffs, angry. “Betraying me again, are you, Kratos?” His eyes narrow. His voice is like ice. “I knew I should have had your son killed long ago.”

Kratos flinches, but steps between Lloyd and Mithos. He thinks as quickly as he is able.

He doesn’t get the chance because a blast of mana from behind Lloyd almost connects with his head. He dives out of the way, and Mithos side-steps the mana blast aimed for him, and there Botta and a handful of Renegades stand at the entrance to the tower.

“Damn!” Botta curses. “We’re too late!”

“What a nuisance,” Mithos sighs, gathering mana at his fingertips.

Kratos swallows hard, mind’s-eye filled with the precipice he stands on. It’s not easy, to throw away all that Mithos has built, to abandon Martel when it feels they are so close, but—Martel has not truly been alive in thousands of years, has she? They are only chasing ghosts, ghosts that likely would not approve of their actions. ( _Martel wouldn’t want him to stand on this foolish path, either_.)

 _Make a choice,_ Anna’s voice echoes.

He is not brave. He does not know if he will land safely at the bottom. But all that lays behind him is a monster of grief and the chains of his own foolishness.

Kratos takes the leap.

He slams his sword into Mithos’ side, which is not enough to hurt him—not the way he is, now—but is enough to distract him. Mithos yelps with anger and— _even if that is pain Kratos cannot think about it._ There is no time.

“Lloyd, go with them!” he instructs, clearly. “Botta, tell Yuan that I’m willing to work with him.” He runs his hand down the length of his sword, charging it with mana. A low-level lightning spell, but Judgement will do nothing against Mithos. “I will try and buy you time.”

“You’re _mad_ ,” Mithos hisses.

“What!?” Lloyd says.

“Understood,” Botta says.

Kratos rushes forward, cutting at Mithos again. Maybe he is mad. But he is certain he can buy Botta the time he needs to get Lloyd and his friends to Yuan. Hopefully, he will be able to meet up with them, after this. And if he dies here instead, well… Yuan will know what to do then, too.

“ _Kratos_ ,” Mithos spits, burning with holy light and the fires of his rage, and it’s been a long, long time since Kratos has seen him this angry. “What do you think you’re _doing_!?”

Kratos sets his jaw and his resolve, tightening his grip on his sword.

“I’m making a choice.”


End file.
